


if it's a crime then i'm guilty

by blanchtt



Series: if you feel like you're the spark [2]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: There are, of course, twice as many activities to drive them all to and twice as many dinners to make and, somehow, what feels like six times the clothes to wash. But it’s natural. She’s always wanted more kids.But it’s nice, too, to have the house to themselves.





	if it's a crime then i'm guilty

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up. I just really love rare pairs and canon divergence. 
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://valiantprincess.tumblr.com/post/162221904561/tbh-ansley-and-alison-shouldda-both-ditched-their) post: tbh ansley and alison shouldda both ditched their husbands and raised their kids together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s a woman of decisive action. Always has been, always will be. 

 

Alison picks up the letter opener, careful as the kids run around her and up the stairs, and opens the letter addressed to her from the DMV.

 

“What’ve you got there?” Aynsley asks in passing, carrying in the groceries, and Alison slips the letter from the envelope, unfolds it, and smiles.

 

“Alison Norris-Hendrix,” Alison reads out loud, and flashes it at Aynsley before reaching for her purse, grabbing her wallet, and placing her new ID safely inside.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

It feels surprisingly normal having four kids in the house, plus one Great Dane.

 

Normal, but messy. There are, of course, twice as many activities to drive them all to and twice as dinners to make and, somehow, what feels like six times the clothes to wash. But it’s natural. She’s always wanted more kids.

 

The fact of the matter is that that's only about half the time, though. Divorce is a bitch. But it’s nice, too, to have the house to themselves.

 

Alison straddles Ansley on the couch, among still-warm towels and staticky clothes, kisses her deeply as Aynsley's hand slides under her shirt, their half-folded laundry quickly forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She doesn’t trust Beth, but Alison meets Cosima and then decides that she trusts Beth the _most,_ and that has to count for something.

 

The story checks out, and after soul-searching that doesn’t really seem to bring any answers, Alison brings it up. It can't be kept a secret forever, especially with the way Cosima shows up unexpectedly, demanding blood and interrupting her smoking session. And besides, Aynsley has the uncanny ability to see through her bullshit.  

 

“I’m a… clone,” she admits, voice strangled even to her own ears, and Ansley’s mouth drops open.

 

"You’re shit— _kidding_ me."

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

“So it’s a dead woman, a stoner, and soccer wives,” Sarah says unbelievingly, slouching in her seat on the sofa as they have their first meeting downstairs. And Alison smiles thinly, absolutely unsure what all of _that_ makes her feel. In any case, she won’t let herself, her wife, or Beth be slighted in her own home. Cosima, she knows, is more than capable of defending herself, and so Alison leaves her to it.

 

“You’re welcome to leave if that doesn’t suit you,” Alison says, and stalks into the kitchen.

 

She gets a pot of tea going and mugs out, makes more noise than necessary though not enough to wake the kids, and ignores the hushed voices speaking without her. When she comes back with tea and biscuits, Sarah looks a little more contrite, and she even says thank you as she’s passed some tea and Cosima starts to discuss a plan.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

"I shot Aldous Leekie," Aynsley says, surprisingly calm, and Alison feels her eyes widen at the news. There’s a fleck of something dark on Aynsley’s cheek, and while the gesture is chivalric in intent, if not in execution, Aynsley is going to need a hot shower and a check-up because _good lord that’s blood_. Probably. And Aynlsey cocks her head, thinks, and admits with the start of a proud smile, "It was not an accident, per se."

 

"I never heard that," Alison says, shaking her head, and she takes Anysley’s hand, leads her upstairs. 

 

By the time they’re done the hot water’s long run out, and they dress, head downstairs, and decide together what to do with the body.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
